A Tale of Rats and SnakeMen
by Kokou
Summary: What really goes on during Voldemort's one-on-one meetings with his minions? Only they and Harry Potter know. Until now. We follow Wormtail and see how far he will go to please his master. Warnings: some strong themes, general wrongness. ONESHOT.


Hi, this is for a challenge. Basically, we had to choose a gross ship and write about it. Hopefully, you'll be able to figure out which one I chose. To any of those anal people out there: Yes, I am well aware that the events in this story defy the basic laws of anatomy. HOWEVER, this is MAGIC. Magic defies laws we Muggles take for granted every day, including the laws of death. If you don't like it, don't read it.

Disclaimer: Me no own Harry or any of the other characters.

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A dark castle stood upon the edge of a cliff that overlooked the sea. A vicious storm raged over the land. A bright flash of lighting illuminated the parapets and the intimidating gargoyles that stood like sentinels over the gates. On a path enshrouded in darkness, a small figure ran through the gates that had magically opened upon its approach and to the castle. It pushed through the doors and into the entrance hall, shaking off the rain.

The figure, now distinguishable as a man with beady, watery eyes, a pointed nose, and mousy brown hair, scurried through a large set of oaken doors and into the throne room. Upon the throne at the front sat either a man or a monster; no one could distinguish which he was anymore, but most said that he was both. He had pale, scaly skin and slit nostrils, rather like a snake's. His most striking feature, though, was his eyes; blood red with pupils like a cat's, they could strike fear into even Godric Gryffindor himself. These eyes now turned themselves to the man cowering at his feet.

"You're late, Wormtail," the man said softly, belying his anger.

"I apologize, my Lord. I was unable to get away from Snape sooner."

"Hmm, I shall be having words with our resident potions master." He stood from his throne and descended down the carpeted steps to Wormtail's level. "Tell me, Wormtail, how devout are you to me?"

"I would do anything for you, Master," the man said proudly. Overhead, the Lord chuckled darkly.

"Anything? Really?"

"Y-yes, my Lord," the cowering man repeated, though he was now somewhat fearful.

"Prove it," Voldemort hissed. Without waiting for a response, he pulled his servant up by his hair and into a searing kiss. The shorter man whimpered and his arms twitched, though he restrained the sudden urge he had to embrace the man who was kissing him. The Dark Lord smirked at this and pulled away, drawing a satisfying whimper from the other man.

"You may touch me if you wish," he said, a hint of amusement tingeing his tone. "You must be prepared to pay the price, though."

This said, he leaned in and recaptured the lips he had been latched onto only a moment before. This time, Wormtail had no reservations about wrapping his arms about his Lord's neck and holding him to himself. That is, he had no reservations until he felt a blinding pain in his abdomen. He looked down and, to his horror, saw a dagger protruding from it. He watched as Voldemort dragged the blade down, causing his guts to spill out.

"My…my Lord?" Wormtail asked weakly.

"I _did_ say there would be a price for being able to touch me, did I not?" When Voldemort saw the other man sway unsteadily, looking as if he was on Death's door, he tisked as if he were looking at a misbehaving child. "None of that, Wormtail," he muttered, waving his wand in a complicated fashion. Immediately, Wormtail's life returned to him, though his innards were still strewn upon the floor he no longer bled so much. "Can't have you dying as I pleasure you, can I? As much as I may enjoy the occasional dead body, something tells me that I would much prefer you alive."

Wormtail nodded weakly, feeling nothing but grateful that his master valued him so. Voldemort picked up his knife once more and began carving into his victim. A deep gash to the cheek, a stab to the arm, a slitting of a wrist causing a fountain of blood to squirt from the lacerated veins. When he'd done as much damage as possible to his upper body, Voldemort eyed Wormtail's pants speculatively.

"Take them off, Wormtail," he hissed quietly.

Wormtail did as bidden with no complaints. When he looked up, his Lord bid him to continue. Soon, he was completely bared to his Lord, the man he had devoted a large part of his life to. Voldemort picked up his knife once more and began carving the legs, leaving each one with the image of his Mark. He led Wormtail to a nearby ebony table.

"Bend over it."

When his victim hesitated, Voldemort placed his hand in between the shoulder blades and forced him down. A quick spell ensured that he was tethered to the table, unable to move. Voldemort then spread the other man's legs and repeated the spell, tying his legs to those of the table. Now he had full access. Fondling his knife, he thought of what he was about to do with a thrill of excitement.

Slowly, he pressed the tip to Wormtail's anus, pushing forward with one stroke. A shrill scream followed this intrusion, and those that came behind it. Finally, the knife was removed from the sobbing man. Voldemort licked his lips in anticipation.

"You know, Peter," he said, using his servant's given name for the first time he could remember. "We should really make this a more common thing." Enjoying the whimper Wormtail made, he slowly shed his robe, revealing that he wore nothing underneath. He positioned himself behind Wormtail, placing his hands on his hips. "I believe I am going to enjoy this," he muttered darkly, a sick gleam to his eye.

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Ten minutes later, and hundreds of miles away at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, one Harry Potter's eyes snapped open and he bolted upright. He leaned over the bed, only barely managing to keep from vomiting all over his sheets and bedspread. Weakly reaching under his pillow, he grabbed his wand and cleaned up the mess. He then got up and walked to the bathroom, certain that he would be throwing up more than once that night.

"What an awful dream," he muttered to himself as he splashed his face with water. Of course, he knew that it wasn't a dream. Harry had a connection with Voldemort, a result of the man's failed attempt to kill him as a toddler. Because of this, he often had dreams of what Voldemort was doing, usually from Voldemort's point of view and with his emotions. Just thinking of this made Harry lunge for the toilet bowl and vomit again. He had butchered Wormtail, his family's betrayer, and had proceeded to rape him, and he had _liked_ it.

Harry sat back, his skin pale. He knew he would not be getting any more sleep that night. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was only barely past midnight. Harry sighed and stood to return to his bed, ready to wait out the long night. He stopped briefly and pulled out his Potions textbook. If he was going to be up the rest of the night, he would at least have some decent reading material. With an envious glance at his blissfully snoring best friend Ron, he crawled back onto his bed and propped his book upon his drawn up knees, ready to wait out the rest of the night and doing his best to forget what he'd seen.

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Ugh! My stomach turned while writing this. There was a point where I thought I was going to be sick myself. To my readers, please make my misery worth it and at least one of you review. To ShadowMoonDancer, I am so sorry for making you read this. Please forgive me.

ShadowMoonDancer here… It wasn't so bad but then I've been reading really gruesome things from Halloween. Anyways sorry for taking so long to get this back to you.


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